Something to Hold When Words Fall Short
They say a teddy is for comfort.
For nights when words don’t arrive on time,
when silence needs arms more than explanations.
He used to believe strength meant standing alone.
That love was proven by endurance,
by learning how not to need anyone.
But some nights taught him otherwise.
Some nights asked for something warm,
something steady,
something that doesn’t question why you’re tired.
That’s when he understood—
love isn’t always about intensity.
Sometimes, it’s about being held
without having to explain what hurt.
He doesn’t offer her a teddy as a symbol of cuteness,
but as a quiet promise:
When the world feels heavy,
there will always be something soft waiting.
Not to fix her.
Not to distract her.
Just to stay.
Because real love doesn’t fill the room with noise.
It sits beside you in silence
and makes it bearable.
